


Stagger, Break

by imperfectkreis



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alien Biology, Biotics, Grinding, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Lubrication, Size Difference, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: Jaal doesn't always understand Ryder. But all things can be explained. But first, there is the small matter of their intentions. And how serious this thing between them is.





	Stagger, Break

“It's an idiom,” Liam explains, throwing his feet up onto the coffee table. He takes a long swig from his beer before continuing, “I’ll break it down.”

Jaal leans forward, both hands wrapped around the beer Liam offered when they both sat down. It doesn't suit his palate. But Human spirits are not toxic to the Angara. Some of his people even prefer the taste. Though Jaal thinks that those who make such claims only do so to appear cosmopolitan.

“So you have a cannon, right? Very, very powerful. Pretty much too powerful for like, ninety-seven percent of the baddies you're going to square up against. Wicked powerful. But it's made of glass. Easily shattered.”

“Fragile,” Jaal fills in.

Liam nods, “Exactly. No defenses. If it takes any enemy fire, bam! Game over.”

“And this relates to Lokesh how?” he asks about their Pathfinder. The apparent subject of their conversation.

“That's just it. He's a glass cannon. All offensive capabilities. Didn't spend any time learning to actually protect himself. His only choice is to be really, really sure that he quickly kills whatever is trying to kill him first.”

Jaal supposes he understands, nodding at Liam’s explanation. That makes sense, from what he's seen with his own eyes in battle. 

Lokesh Ryder moves with stunning speed. And his biotics, capabilities that Jaal does not quite yet understand, are a fearsome sight to behold. But afterwards, Lokesh is confined to the Medbay for hours. Sometimes almost half a cycle. At first, Jaal thought he was having relations with Dr. T’Perro. But the physician dissuaded Jaal from that idea herself.

“He should invest in better armor,” Jaal offers as a suggestion. Thicker plating could absorb more damage. Or a configuration with stronger shields.

Liam rolls his eyes, “Cora tried. After our first mission out on Eos. Speced him a bunch of different models that we could get fabricated right away. A few that would take more time, but would really improve the situation.” He shakes his head, “rejected all of them. If it's not going to boost his biotics, he's not interested.”

Jaal frowns, “But he's getting hurt.”

“And we’re also winning,” Liam stresses. “Cocky asshole won't listen to reason. But maybe he's right. Look how far we’ve gotten.”

Jaal holds back, despite the concern foaming behind his teeth. If the pattern holds, Lokesh still has another three hours in Medbay.

\--

Instead of waiting for Lokesh to come to him, Jaal ambushes him. Waiting in the Pathfinder’s quarters, Jaal tries not to intrude unnecessarily in Lokesh’s personal accommodations. Humans find a level of privacy to be comforting. They require much more space than he is used to. So Jaal sits and waits and does not rifle through Lokesh’s half-unpacaked boxes from the Milky Way. As much as he might like to.

The doors slide open and Lokesh takes a step back when he sees Jaal seated on the edge of the bed. But after registering the scene, he breaks into an open smile. Among humans, Lokesh is outwardly friendlier than most. Though among the Angara, he would perhaps be considered a bit coy. That doesn't bother Jaal, who while suitably expressive, is prone to embarrassment.

“Either I did something very wrong, or very, very good,” Lokesh smiles.

Ah, yes. Jaal has not been oblivious to Lokesh’s advances either. That he may be open to a sexual relationship. Jaal is flattered, really. Lokesh is very handsome. At least, Jaal thinks he is. Only a few inches shorter than Jaal, somewhat stocky compared to other human men, but still slight in comparison to Angara. He wears his dark hair tied back, to keep it out of his light eyes. Yes, Lokesh’s physical attributes are...appealing.

But Jaal desires affection from his potential mates as well. And Lokesh’s teasing flirtations never come accompanied by any hint of seriousness. When Jaal responds to his advances too slowly, Lokesh always laughs, insisting that he's joking.

“I was talking to Kosta,” Jaal explains.

Shaking his head, Lokesh sits down next to him at the edge of the bed, “what is it now?”

“We were speaking about your tactics, skills, and equipment.”

“Were you now?” Lokesh drops his hands onto the tops of his thighs. They're bandaged over for the moment. The gauze seals in the medigel, keeping it from smearing over every surface of the ship. “I can't wait to hear this.”

Jaal frowns, “You take unnecessary risks. Liam says that you invest very little in your shields and defenses. It leaves you vulnerable.”

And like this, dressed in a tee and loose fitting pants, Lokesh looks very vulnerable indeed. While he is fit, his frame isn't overly muscled. The breadth of his body seems so inadequate for battle. The same can be said of most of the Milky Way species. The Krogan excluded. And yet, they have all survived. Flourished, even.

Lokesh takes his hands off his thighs, putting them behind his hips instead and leading back. He tilts his head to one side, exposing the column of his throat in a way that is decipherable across all species. He is comfortable with Jaal, at ease.

“There are only so many mod slots in our suits. And with my biotics, it's a waste to sacrifice one for shields, when my barrier works just as well.”

Jaal has seen this barrier work in the field. A distortion that flickers around Lokesh a fraction of a second after his shields are breached. More than that, Jaal can feel it when it kicks in. 

The electromagnetic traits inherent to his own people are a sort of background noise. He has been sorting through them since childhood. But biotics are still supple and strange. But though both Cora and Peebee can bend gravity and weight to their will as well, Lokesh’s manipulations are particularly sharp, violent.

“They must not. If you always return to the Tempest injured,” Jaal argues. “They must not be enough.”

Lokesh practically growls, his eyebrows raised and teeth bared, “They're enough. More than enough.” He swallows thickly, “Using my abilities just makes me tired, and fucking hungry.”

“And your hands?” This is not the first time they have been bandaged after a mission.

Lokesh brings one up in front of him, shifting his weight to the other arm. They must not hurt too badly, if he is comfortably bearing weight on them. “I'm just not combat ready, you know. Haven't had to use them this frequently or for such long durations, well….ever? Cora says they'll stop being so sore after awhile.”

“Ah yes,” Jaal remembers, “her training was different than yours.”

“Yeah,” Lokesh stops supporting his weight all together, flopping back against the mattress, hair fanning out. Jaal isn't bold enough to join him laying down. “She got sent away to train with Asari. She's...you know, older than me. The Alliance were still trying to figure out how to train human biotics themselves. There were some...failed attempts.”

“The Asari would not take all of you?” From Jaal’s understanding, all AsarI possess biotic traits. To a greater or lesser extent. Peebee rates her own abilities as decisively average. Though Jaal is still wowed by them.

“Nah,” reaching out, Lokesh runs his fingers down the column of Jaal’s spine. Jaal can feel the digits through the fabric of his clothing, raking him to the bone. “By the time my sister and I were born, it was pretty clear human biotics weren't a one-off deal. Humans needed to establish their own programs. Build up education, protocol, traditions.”

“And so you went to school. When Cora went to war?”

Lokesh’s voice turns slightly sour, “Something like that. The Alliance still didn't like biotics living civilian lives. Even if our father hadn't been an N7, it would still be strongly suggested that my sister and I enlist at eighteen.”

He pulls his hand away, dropping it across his stomach instead. Jaal misses the warm, soothing pressure immediately. But he is still uncertain of Lokesh’s ultimate intentions. Or, perhaps he is sure. Merely he does not like the answer.

“I'm sorry,” Jaal consoles, “if this dredges up painful memories.”

“Nah,” Lokesh brushes off Jaal’s concern. 

When Jaal turns his head, he catches the brilliance of Lokesh’s smile.

“I don't mind talking about it, with you.”

Jaal feels his heart fluttering inside his chest. He should find the courage to speak. And soon.

\--

Another day, another battle, and once Lokesh sheds his armor, he heads to the Medbay without delay. He is missing for four hours, before reappearing, freshly scrubbed and showered. Still with a beaming smile.

“Jaal,” he reaches up to clap Jaal on the shoulder, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There are dark circles under his eyes. In some humans, that signals tiredness, exhaustion. Lokesh insists his are hereditary. But they look more bruised than ever. “I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yeah, come with me to my quarters,” he tugs at Jaal’s rofjiin. Jaal cannot help but follow after, caught in the gravity of Lokesh’s enthusiasm.

Once they are through the doors to the Pathfinder’s quarters, Lokesh gestures for him to sit down. Not on the bed, but in the cozy little seating area in front of the massive sea of stars. Jaal sits, curling his hands around the armrests of the chair, waiting for whatever this idea of Lokesh’s is.

“It occurred to me, none of us have really shown you our biotics.” His hands are gauzed again.

“I have seen them,” Jaal corrects.

Lokesh shakes his head, his hair falling over his shoulder, “in combat, yeah. But none of us have, you know, taken the time to really show you. And I think that's why you don't believe me. When I say I'm fine.”

Jaal holds back, something he has had to learn to do since taking his assignment on the Tempest. He does not mention that Liam, Cora, Drack, Vetra, they all have their concerns regarding Lokesh and his health as well.

Grabbing the chair across the table, Lokesh drags it so they can sit knee to knee, without any obstructions in between. He sits down across from Jaal, reaching out to take both his hands.

“Just tell me if any of this is too weird, okay? Or you want to stop. But I think it will be...good,” Lokesh furrows his brow, turning Jaal’s hands so they are face up, his own tucked underneath. He tries to curl his fingers around Jaal’s hands, but they are too small to reach further than the very edges of Jaal’s palms. 

Jaal holds very still, listening to Lokesh breathe. Lokesh’s eyes drift closed, lips parted. In battle, he's always wide-eyed and erratic. Darting from cover to cover, reaching out and warping mass around them. Throwing explosive canisters, pulling crates towards himself, only to fling them back at the last possible moment. Wild. Terrifying.

When Jaal feels the cool, deep pressure curling around his hands, it is difficult to believe this is the same power. Gentle, coming in rolling waves, Lokesh extends his grip, beyond the confines of his flesh. The soft-textured gauze becomes indistinct, lost in the waters of his biotics.

His eyes open again, dark lashes hitting against his browbone. They're so long.

“Can you see it?” Lokesh asks, his top teeth grating against his bottom lip. “I always think I can. But maybe it's only because I'm used to it. Or maybe it's just in my head.”

Jaal looks down at their joined hands. And, yes, he thinks he sees it too. Nothing as ostentatious as the brilliant flashes of combat, but crisp, lush folds of purple blue that coil around their skin, shimmering as Lokesh strokes.

“It's so...gentle,” Jaal comments.

Lokesh runs his thumb along the side of Jaal’s hand. “It can be...I think I can feel you too.”

Of course Lokesh can feel him. They're touching after all.

Oh, he means the electric field.

“Let me show you something else,” he drags his hands away, and Jaal has to stop himself from whimpering at the loss of contact. Instead dropping his hands into his lap.

Lokesh uses his biotics to lift a coffee mug off the table, keeping it aloft. “It's taken a lot of practice, but I have pretty precise control. This is the kind of stuff I learned in school.” Lifting his other hand, he meticulously breaks the handle off the ceramic mug. “This grand plan of applying human biotics to more than just….”

“Killing,” Jaal finishes. 

“Yeah.”

Jaal reaches up, plucking both the cup and the handle out of midair. It seems so vulgar to bring up, but Jaal can't help himself, “You broke it.”

“I break a lot of things,” Lokesh doesn't miss a beat.

Jaal isn't certain how this is meant to make him feel any better.

\--

Kadara is too warm, the heat and humidity clinging to Jaal’s skin. Inside the climate controlled Nomad, the heavy air isn't quite so oppressive. But still, he loathes it here.

Left to his own devices, he would choose to stay on the Tempest. Perhaps working with the Salarian model pistols Kallo procured for him. They are light, but pack significant force. Jaal finds them engineous.

But Lokesh insists that Jaal come along. He wants to visit Keema. Which really means visiting Reyes Vidal. But Lokesh always makes excuses. Waving off his obvious interest in the Charlatan.

True to Lokesh's word, they head for the compound first. Lokesh talks excitedly with his hands. The outpost settlement here is doing well. Those who had family and friends among the Exiles jumped at the chance to be reunited. Technically, none among the exiled can live within the boundaries of the settlement. But the proximity is close enough for many. Jaal is glad. Lokesh is reuniting those dear to one another.

“My sister is still doing well, you know? At least that's what Doc Carlyle tells me,” Lokesh frowns. He so viscerally misses his sister. Jaal can feel it coming off him in waves.

Idly, he wonders if the Ryder twins have ever fought together. They must have, both serving in the Alliance military. He wonders how a galaxy could survive the both of them, given the brutal force of Lokesh alone.

Jaal stands by Lokesh’s side while he speaks with Keema, all smiles and robust hugs. Jaal cannot say he cares for Keema very much. She is more duplicitous than most Angara, keeping her emotions, her hopes and dreams, concealed. She has lived among the Milky Way species as long as anyone. And while Jaal only knew her by name before, he cannot imagine she was always like this.

She and Lokesh talk about nothing in particular, a diplomatic visit based on conversation and liquor. Keema laughs and smiles as if she is happy. But how could she be? Despite those who now flock around her, she seems so isolated. So alone.

When Reyes Vidal does arrive, her eyes light in a way that cannot be faked. But her genuine enthusiasm still cannot quiet Jaal’s anxieties. Vidal sits on the wide armrest of her chair, plucking her glass right out of her hands and sipping.

“Apologizes for my lateness,” he passes the glass back to Keema, “I had deliveries to make.”

The chatter continues on. Jaal wants little more than to depart. But he does not wish to leave Lokesh behind. He is hyper aware of the press of Lokesh’s leg against his. The warmth that he radiates, even when his attention is directed elsewhere. Jaal feels close to him, connected.

“What do you say, Jaal?”

“Hmm,” Jaal is loathed to admit he'd let his attention drift.

“Reyes and I are heading to the outpost. Do you want to come?”

He doesn't. So he excuses himself back to the Tempest.

\--

Lokesh returns to the Tempest, reeking of liquor but still steady on his feet. The smell of it hits Jaal as soon as he steps in front of Lokesh, confident now in what he must say. What he must do.

“Jaal,” Lokesh beams, throwing up his arms, “I didn't think you were still awake.”

“I thought you and Vidal had business to attend. But you've clearly been to the bar.”

Lokesh waves off his concern, “We finished up, decided to go for drinks. What's up?”

Jaal can detect it now, the undercurrent of Vidal’s cologne, stagnant under the veneer of liquor. Clinging to Lokesh’s clothes.

“Are you intoxicated?” Jaal asks, dropping his hand to Lokesh’s hip. Lokesh, consciously or not, leans into the pressure, rocking into Jaal’s grip.

“Nah. Fast metabolism, the alcohol burns off quick.” He grabs the front of his shirt, lifting it up to his nose to sniff, “though I suppose I figure where you got that idea.”

“Are you certain?” he asks. Because Jaal needs him to be certain.

“Want Lexi to give me a field sobriety test?” Lokesh jokes, “we can wake her up.”

“No, no,” Jaal admits defeat. Lokesh’s eyes and voice are clear and in control. “I believe you.”

“But one thing,” Lokesh cocks his hip, leaning into Jaal’s grip again, “if this is some super important conversation. Let's not have it out here, okay? Kinda public.”

Jaal agrees. Though part of him just wants to spit his questions here. Before he has the chance to swallow them again. Lokesh ushers them into the open armory. Each grabbing one of the shop stools so they can sit down.

“So, what's up?” Lokesh asks. 

“Are you having relations with Reyes Vidal? Romantic, relations…”

Lokesh laughs, nearly falling off his stool. He rights himself quickly, trying to stifle his laughter, “No. Not even a little. Oh, fuck, that would be weird. I think of him like a brother. A lying, cheating, murderous older brother.” Lokesh crinkles his nose, “Actually, if I had an older brother, I'm pretty sure he would be exactly like Reyes.”

Jaal isn't completely certain what that means. But, not for the first time, he's mildly terrified of the moment Lokesh’s sister finally wakes up.

Huffing, Jaal laughs too. Relief mostly, “Oh alright.”

“Why the concern,” Lokesh smiles at him, “worried about competition?”

Frowning, Jaal admits, “Maybe, I don't know.”

“You don't kn~ow,” Lokesh sing-songs. “I've known for a long time. But it's okay. I'm not in a hurry. Just, I keep wondering if there's something I could do to help you make up your mind. Best to be proactive with these things.”

“What have you known?” Jaal asks, curious, and terrified. This may very well confirm his worst suspicions.

Lokesh slides off his stool, taking the two steps that will bring them close. Close enough that Jaal’s even with the apple of Lokesh’s throat. Warm, brown skin, exposed and alive. Jaal believes it's his own static, charging the room. 

“That I want to touch you,” Lokesh runs his fingers along Jaal’s cheek, fanning outward towards his flaps, down to where they disappear beneath the collar of his shirt. “That I want you to touch me,” he continues. “And I don't want you to stop.”

“Only touching, then?” Jaal’s chest feels tight. This is what he so feared.

Lokesh’s eyes soften. And somehow, across their differences, Jaal understands. Because this is something deeply human. Whether it be by nature or experience. Lokesh is hesitant, fearful of being as open as Jaal is undoubtedly capable. They must both be brave, in their own way.

“I want you to love me,” Jaal admits, mimicking Lokesh’s gentle motions. Touching his cheek, his neck, laying his hand against the center of Lokesh’s chest, where his body is flat and foreign . 

Lokesh smiles, “I want that too.” He draws his hand away, placing it over top of Jaal’s instead.

\--

Jaal takes Lokesh to Havarl, to meet his mothers, his siblings, his cousins. He does not know how Lokesh will react to being surrounded by so many, when his own family is very small. 

But Lokesh blooms under his family’s affections. Asking each one to tell him about themselves. He repeats their names, making sure he says them right. They speak over top one another, asking all manner of questions of the Human Pathfinder. Lokesh proves himself adept at dodging some of their more probing queries.

Tugging Lokesh away, Jaal mutters excuses to his family. Insisting that they do not have much time before they must depart again. And there is something that he must show Lokesh. Some of his cousins make vulgar suggestions. Ones that Jaal hopes Lokesh and his translator do not catch.

Really, though, Jaal only wishes to show Lokesh his room. Share with him one of the few private comforts he has. Jaal thinks this will bring them closer. Showing Lokesh how they can always meet halfway.

As they lay on the floor of Jaal’s bedroom, staring up at the lace crafted from inaccurate stars, Jaal wonders about fate and choice. Because neither can fully account for Lokesh’s hand in his.

“Thank you,” Lokesh’s breath is heavy. His chest rising and contracting. “For bringing me here. For showing me your home, your family.”

Jaal smiles, squeezing back on Lokesh’s unbandaged hand. He was right, the trauma has ebbed, now that he uses his abilities more. The skin doesn't feel harder, or scarred or calloused. But it is nonetheless changed. Jaal finds the transformation fascinating.

“I am glad you are here,” he does not specifically mean this room. Or Havarl, or even the cluster. But something else. That Lokesh is here, by his side. When for so long, Jaal felt himself adrift. Despite the familiar presence of his obligations. The deep love of his people. Lokesh is another anchor. A weight Jaal is ecstatic to bear.

Beside him, Lokesh shifts, throwing one leg over Jaal’s waist and tumbling on top of him. He plants his hands on either side of Jaal’s head, staring down, hair loose and cascading over his shoulders. His back blots out the stars. And Jaal has never been so pleased to be in the dark.

Lokesh kisses him, mouth opening, touch by touch. Sweet and warm. Human foods are too cloying, Jaal has learned. But now he thinks he understands. 

Jaal wraps his hands around Lokesh’s narrow hips, pressing down into soft, yielding skin, muscle and fat and bone. Lokesh huffs against Jaal’s lips. Jaal thinks that is a good sign.

There are a thousand exclamations on Jaal’s tongue. But Lokesh busies himself, swallowing them down, stroking his fingers along Jaal’s flaps, tracing to his chest. He spreads his fingers wide and moans, pulling back with a half-smile.

“Your family is in the other room,” Lokesh says, still squeezing Jaal’s chest through the fabric of his shirt. “They're going to think I'm awful. If we get any further.”

“We can be quiet,” Jaal suggests. Though he has his own reservations, he's lost enough in the haze of want to cling to Lokesh like a buoy. 

“No,” Lokesh drawls, his voice sticky syrup, “I can’t be.”

As if anything could make Jaal want him more.

\--

The water comes up to their waists. Cool and clear, Jaal can see the shape of his hand, underneath the surface, as he wraps his fist around Lokesh’s cock. Lokesh tips his head back against Jaal’s shoulder, gasping into the vibrant, bright daylight.

Jaal rocks his hips against Lokesh, slicking the thick, flat shaft of his cock into the cleft of his ass. Jaal’s natural lubrication mixes with the water, the slide of their bodies against each other near-frictionless.

“I love you, Jaal,” Lokesh pants, mouth open and neck bared. Jaal dips his head to kiss against Lokesh’s jaw, the speed of his hips picking up.

Lokesh reaches behind him, grabbing handfuls of Jaal’s hips. He grinds back against against Jaal’s shaft, spreading his legs and rocking. Jaal thinks about what it would be like to slip inside him, bury himself deep. Hear Lokesh wail as he takes his cock. If it would even fit, with the narrowness of Lokesh’s anatomy. But there will be time for that, later. As it is, Lokesh already can't keep quiet. Babbling about how good it feels, how much he wants Jaal, how he doesn't want it to stop.

“Come with me,” Jaal rasps into the shell of Lokesh’s ear, “there's something else I want to try.”

Lokesh nods, but not before thrusting his hips back, holding Jaal close. The fierceness of the contact makes Jaal’s head spin. But he cannot wait to taste Lokesh. To have him on his tongue.

Once they are settled on the beach, Jaal wastes no time kissing Lokesh senseless, running their tongues and hands along every exposed stretch of skin. Lokesh buries his nails into Jaal’s back, biting down. His hard cock rubbing between their stomachs.

Jaal begins his slow descent, keeping Lokesh on his back, trailing his mouth down his neck, his sternum, the swell of his stomach and the sharper cut of his hips. Lokesh’s hair scrapes against his tongue, rough and tasting of the lake. Spreading his thumb and fingers wide across Lokesh’s thighs, Jaal admires the fullness of his lover’s cock. Lean and round and so unlike his own, curling towards his abdomen. Dry everywhere but the very tip, Jaal feels a thrill at the strange newness of it. How he has a chance to map every moaned response, each way he can give Lokesh pleasure.

Dipping his head, he takes the tip of Lokesh’s cock into his mouth, laving his tongue along the underside. Jaal can't help but smile when Lokesh cries out. Lokesh sits up, reaching to stroke over Jaal’s head, moaning out his name and bucking shallowly into Jaal’s mouth.

Though the shape of Lokesh’s cock is somewhat different, the principle of sucking on him is rather much the same. Jaal bobs his head, finding the stretch and burn of wrapping his lips around Lokesh’s shaft it's own sort of adventure.

“Jaal, Jaal, oh fuck, right there, ah,” Lokesh chants, sweat clinging to his skin.

Jaal can feel the muscles in Lokesh’s thighs tighten, the way his body grows taut. There's a scent in the air that Jaal recognizes from battle. The tang of biotic flares. He can't help but be self-satisfied that he has brought Lokesh so perilously close to the edge.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lokesh shoves at Jaal, who pulls off with a wet plop. Already he misses the taste and heavy warmth. “There’s something else I want to try.”

Jaal nods, sitting back on his heels and waiting for Lokesh to catch his breath. Sitting up, Lokesh puts his hands against Jaal’s chest. 

“I want to,” Lokesh drops one hand on top of Jaal’s thigh, “put my cock between your thighs. Would you let me?”

Jaal nods, reaching out to cradle Lokesh’s jaw, “Of course. If it is what you want.”

“I've thought about it,” Lokesh laughs, “a lot.”

Jaal smiles too and they arrange themselves so Jaal is on his hands and knees, Lokesh kneeling behind him. Lokesh groans, running his fingers between Jaal’s legs at first, smearing lubricant from his cock through the apex of his thighs and almost all the way to his hole. 

Clamping his thighs tight around Lokesh’s hand, Jaal can't help but smile at the strangled, needy gasp that leaves Lokesh’s mouth. The muttered, “Fucking, hell,” that follows.

Lokesh comes up behind him, easing his cock between Jaal’s legs, slotting the head along the underside of Jaal’s cock.

The difference in their physiologies means that virtually all of Lokesh’s cock is swallowed up by Jaal’s thighs. But on each thrust of Lokesh’s hips, he drags lubricant back along the head of his cock, slickening the channel for the rest of his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, so fucking good,” Lokesh’s mouth is never closed. 

He reaches around to wrap his hand around Jaal’s cock, adjusting his grip until Jaal tells him, “There.”

The sensation of Lokesh rutting between his legs is more pleasurable than Jaal expected, the warm pressure and frantic movement as Lokesh thrusts. Sweat from Lokesh’s chest stinging against Jaal’s back. Another time they will have to figure out how to do this face to face. So Jaal can watch Lokesh’s eyes blown wide. Or maybe he will put his cock into Lokesh from that position, staring at he loses control of himself.

Cautiously, Jaal reaches between his legs, brushing his fingers just at the junction where Lokesh’s cock pushes through, running against the base of Jaal’s own. The subtle shift in sensation is enough to throw Lokesh over the edge, shouting Jaal’s name and spilling fluid across their hands, the ground, sticking to Jaal’s abdomen.

Lokesh pumps him, their fluids mixing now. Jaal feels the familiar, heady crash of his orgasm at the thought. The lovely, floaty realization of their intimacy. How deeply Lokesh loves him, kissing against the back of his neck as Jaal comes undone.

They lay along the beach, Lokesh’s head against Jaal’s shoulder. He listens to the steady sounds of the waterfall, now that Lokesh is quiet. He listens to Lokesh breathe, realizing he's already watched his darling one die once. And the reality that he may yet witness it again.

Jaal wishes they could stay here, until the blanket of Aya’s stars wraps around them for the night. But there is a war still left to win. Beyond the confines of this moment. 

But for the time being, Jaal runs his fingers down the length of Lokesh’s arm, from shoulder, to elbow to wrist. Lokesh smiles against his flap, pressing a kiss against the skin.

“We should get back to the Tempest,” Lokesh says, his voice cloudy, “So we can go home soon.”

Jaal isn't certain where home is, for the two of them. But he's ready to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read. Comments and kudos are always very much appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://imperfectkreis.tumblr.com)


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